by Joss Wood
“You’re diabolical,” she wailed. “This isn’t a good idea, Linc. You know it’s not!”
“Screw good ideas,” Linc muttered.
Thinking that she’d plow the stroller into a light pole if they continued with this conversation, Tate tucked her phone between her neck and jaw, gripped the handle of the stroller with one hand and tightened her grip on Shaw’s hand. She had children to get home, cupcakes to make; she wouldn’t manage either if she kept fantasizing about the naughty things she wanted Linc Ballantyne to do to her.
They couldn’t. They shouldn’t.
They wouldn’t.
“Do you have the ingredients for the cupcakes?” she asked him, thinking that they really needed to get to safer ground.
“Changing the subject, Tate?”
“Absolutely. Let’s be smart and keep things simple, Linc.”
Tate clearly heard his frustrated sigh, and when he didn’t respond she chose to believe that he agreed with her. “So, about those ingredients?”
“I have no damn idea what is in the pantry,” Linc eventually replied. “I’ll get Amy to send an intern shopping for whatever you might need.”
“Flour, eggs, icing sugar, food coloring,” Tate rattled off. “Don’t go overboard. And do your interns do any real work or are they just there to make your life easier?”
“Both,” Linc said. “I’ll try and be home as soon as I can. If I’m not home by five, can you let Cady and the photographer into the house?”
“Yep. And I’ll even send you a text message to tell you that we are home safe, just so that you have one less thing to worry about,” Tate told him.
“Thanks, Tate,” Linc said. “I know that you think I’m overreacting and being paranoid but he’s—”
“Your life. The reason the sun rises every morning,” Tate said softly. God, she’d never been that to anyone, not even to her mom. For Lane, her first, most important connection was to her twin, then to Kari, who was all she had left of Lauren. And then, miles behind, was Tate.
What would that feel like, to be the object of Linc’s fierce devotion? His love? Pretty damn awesome, Tate decided. Fully fantastic.
“Tate?”
“Hmm...?”
“You and me? We can try to keep resisting each other, but I suspect it’s going to happen and when it does, we’re going to blow the damned roof off.”
Seven
By five that afternoon, Tate felt like she’d run the New York Marathon, fought off an alien invasion and gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Twenty-four cupcakes were cooling on the rack, Shaw had a sugar high from licking the sides of the mixing bowl, and Ellie needed her diaper changed. After today, she’d gained a newfound respect for stay-at-home moms and child minders. This job was not for the faint of heart.
Tate settled Shaw in front of the TV to watch his favorite show, then crossed the room and picked Ellie up from her playpen. The little girl’s hand bounced off her lips, and Tate kissed her fingers. Ellie’s laugh, deep and husky, just like Kari’s, rumbled across her skin, and Tate cuddled her close, burying her nose in her silky curls. God, she was pure magic, utterly sweet and ridiculously good.
Looking toward the kitchen, she winced. Shaw had insisted on helping her bake, and the kitchen looked like it was ground zero in the flour wars. She still had to pack the dishwasher and sweep the floor, and then they had to decorate the cupcakes.
Tate cast a dark glance at the three massive bags of supplies sitting on the dining table. If Linc’s intern had merely sent over some icing sugar and food coloring, they could just top the cupcakes with icing and a sweet. But, no, despite Tate’s earlier request, the Ballantyne intern had gone way overboard. There were cutters and stencils, edible flowers and iced animals. Decorating the cupcakes was not going to be a simple affair.
Ellie wiggled in her arms and gave a little wail to remind Tate that she was both dirty and hungry. Tate dropped a kiss on her grumpy lips and, after telling Shaw to leave the cupcakes alone, walked up the steps to the first floor. As she turned the corner, she heard the front door open, and people spilled into the hallway, led by Jaeger Ballantyne, who was carrying a little boy not that much older than Ellie.
“Hey, Tate,” Jaeger said, standing back to hold open the front door. “Rough day?” he asked, his expression amused.
Before she could answer, a slim woman walked up to her and leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m Piper. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Piper put her hand on the little boy’s thigh. “This is Ty, our son.”
“Hi,” Tate said warmly, as more people drifted into the hall, including Beck, Sage and a harassed, petite brunette holding a clipboard.
She exchanged greetings with Linc’s siblings and watched as Beck grabbed the brunette’s arm.
“Cady, meet Tate. She’s...” Beck sent Tate a puzzled look. “What are you?”
“A friend of the family. Also Linc’s part-time nanny,” Tate replied, holding her hand out for Cady to shake. Not wanting to go into her convoluted history with Linc, she nodded to a harassed-looking man dressed in solid black. Behind him, two young women looked equally stressed.
The photographer and his assistants, Tate figured.
“You look like you have your hands full,” she said, addressing Cady.
Her back to the photographer, Cady rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “We’ve all had a long day, and Jose is on a tight schedule. I presume Linc is upstairs, dressing?”
Tate pulled a face. “Uh...that would be a no. He’s not home yet.”
Tate’s statement was met with a series of groans, the loudest of which was from Cady. “Seriously?” Beck asked, placing his hands on his trim waist.
“Seriously,” Tate replied.
Cady released a strangled moan and scowled at Beck, who threw up his hands. “What? I am not my brother’s keeper.”
Cady drilled a finger into his flat stomach. “Find him. I have Jose here for the next two hours, and I need to nail this down.”
Piper, carrying two grocery bags, lifted them into the air. “And Jay and I will get supper going.”
Tate winced. “Uh, sorry. The kitchen is in a bit of a mess. I’ve been making cupcakes for Shaw to take to school tomorrow. I’ll just change Ellie, and then I’ll clean up. Can you give me five minutes?”
Sage stepped up to her and took a very willing Ellie from her arms. “I’ll change Miss Gorgeous here, if that’s okay with you?”
“She’s a bit of a mess,” Tate warned her.
“I lived with Linc and Shaw and Jo for years. I’ve changed many diapers. We’ll be fine,” Sage assured her and headed up the magnificent staircase, crooning to Ellie as she did so.
Right, okay, the kitchen. Tate was about to follow Piper and Jaeger downstairs when the front door banged open, and Linc stepped through the entrance. His eyes immediately clashed with hers, and Tate felt her skin tingle as his stormy eyes roamed over her face, down her long-sleeved T-shirt. His gaze heated, and Tate was quite sure that her panties were about to catch fire.
“Hi.”
“Hi back.” Tate forced the words up her throat and wished she had the right to step into his arms, to lift her face to be kissed, to feel his big hands in her hair, changing the angle so that he could kiss her with hot abandon.
“You look—”
Stunning? Gorgeous? Sexy? Doable? She’d take any of the adjectives.
“—like you were dunked in a vat of flour.”
Tate glanced down at her shirt and saw the streaks of flour and the blobs of batter in her hair.
Oh, shoot! Okay, not her best foot forward. “Cupcakes.”
Linc briefly closed his eyes. “Dammit, I forgot. How much is there still to do?”
>
“A lot.”
Cady, looking impatient, stepped between them and glanced at her watch. “Linc, we’ve got serious time constraints, and you’re already fifteen minutes late. I need you changed and in the downstairs library in five minutes.”
Linc dropped his laptop bag onto the hall table. “Dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt?”
“Yes...casual, hip, no shoes,” Cady quickly replied and, hearing the photographer shouting for her, she rushed down the hallway. Tate was about to turn away to head back downstairs to clean up the kitchen when Linc grabbed her wrist and tugged her to the stairs.
“Linc, Piper is cooking, and the kitchen looks like the world ended in there,” Tate protested, yet her feet followed his hurried pace up the stairs.
“They can handle it,” Linc replied. “Where’s Shaw?”
“Downstairs, watching TV.”
“Ellie?”
“Sage is changing her.”
“So, you can spare me ten minutes?” he asked, as they hit the landing to the second floor.
“I suppose.”
Linc led her down the hallway and reached past her to open the door to his bedroom, his hand on her back urging her inside. Tate’s quick glance of the room registered brown and creams, a masculine space, but then Linc’s arms were around her and his mouth was on hers, hot, deep, dark and breath-stealing sexy.
Oh, Lord, he could kiss, Tate thought dreamily. His mouth was assured and clever, his tongue silky, his breath sweet. Strong, muscular arms held her flush against his tall, hard frame, and Tate was grateful for his support because she was quite certain that every joint in her body was on the point of liquefying. Linc left one hand on her bottom, and the fingers of his other hand speared into her hair, gripping her head and, just like she’d imagined earlier, tilted it to allow his tongue deeper access into her mouth.
She could kiss Linc for years, eons, the rest of her life, Tate mused. When his big hand found her breast and his thumb drifted across her puckered nipple, she whimpered, groaned and whimpered again. Tate’s hand caressed his back, his rib cage before both her hands came to rest on his lean hips, her stretched-out thumbs very close to his hard erection.
She wanted to unbuckle his belt, pull down the zipper, slide her hands into his underwear—
Linc pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. “I’ve thought about doing that, and more, all day. I’ve been less than useless.”
“I burned the first batch of cupcakes because I was fantasizing about you,” Tate admitted, her voice husky.
Linc’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. “What was I doing?”
“This, pretty much,” Tate whispered.
“This is pretty tame compared to what I’ve been imagining.” Linc’s big hand covered most of her cheek, and he placed his thumb in the center of her bottom lip. “I want you, Tate. Badly.”
“I know. I want you, too,” Tate confessed. “It’s inconvenient and crazy, and there are a thousand reasons why it’s a bad idea—”
“But you’re going to let me take you to bed?”
She didn’t have the strength or the willpower to walk away. This one time, she couldn’t resist temptation. But, because she had to protect herself, she laid out the rules of engagement. That way, there couldn’t be any misunderstandings.
“This is a very short-term arrangement, Linc. We’re just two adults who are wickedly attracted to each other and who want nothing more than some no-strings-attached fun.” She could do sex, she could do a fling. This couldn’t be anything more, and he needed to know that. “This is temporary and an emotion-free zone. So, no expectations, okay?”
“Understood,” Linc said. “Relax, Tate, I’m not asking for anything more. I’m not expecting anything from you but to share your body with me. No offense, but if I was looking for someone to settle down with, and I’m not, you’re not what I’m looking for.”
Dammit, why did she feel like he’d jabbed an ice pick into her heart? Stupid girl! “Because I am the least stable, traditional, least likely to stay at home, woman you know?”
Linc shrugged. “But you’re, by far, the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and I want you more than my next breath.”
The fist clenching her heart relaxed, and Tate sent him a hesitant smile. She could do this; she’d separate sex from emotion and she would be fine. She had to be; anything else wasn’t an option.
“And, last request, outside this room, we act normal,” Tate insisted.
Linc smiled teasingly. “What’s normal?”
She was trying to be serious, but Tate’s mouth curved upward. “Fair point. But, to spell it out, I look after the kids and you...well, you do what you do.”
“Doing you is high on my list,” Linc growled.
Tate punched his shoulder, but her fist held all the impact of a puff of air. “Be serious. Do we have a deal?”
Linc grinned. “And I thought that I was a pushy negotiator.” He laughed at her glare and held up his hands. “Peace. And, yes, we have a deal.”
Linc replaced his hands on her hips and dropped his head to nuzzle his lips against her temple.
“Shall we seal it with another kiss?” Tate asked, surprised at her brazen words.
Linc looked tempted and then regretful. With a groan he stepped back and moved his hands from her waist to her hands. “Tate, if we go there again, we’re going to get naked, very fast. And if I’m not downstairs soon, Cady will send Beck up to light a fire under me.”
“We have such crap timing,” Tate said, her tone mournful.
Linc laughed. “We really do.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Our ten minutes are nearly up. Jeans and white shirt. What type of jeans? Which white shirt?”
Tate pulled her hands from his and walked into his spacious closet, sighing at the racks of suits, dress shirts on hangars in a myriad of colors and what seemed like a hundred ties.
“You have more clothes than I do,” she stated, looking at his pile of jeans.
“Since you live out of a suitcase, most people do,” Linc said, walking past her to flip through his selection of white shirts. His shoulder brushed hers, and he hauled in a breath and closed his eyes. “You smell divine, like chocolates and perfume. And vanilla.”
“Chocolate and vanilla cupcakes,” Tate replied, picking up a pair of designer jeans from a pile and discarding them. When she saw a pair of jeans with a rip in the knee and a very pale blue from too many wash cycles, she held them up. “These.”
“I meant to throw those away,” Linc said, looking doubtful. “They are seriously old. I wear them to—jeez, I never wear them anymore.”
“They are perfect,” Tate reassured him. “There is nothing sexier than a guy in a pair of ripped, well-worn, well-fitting jeans and a good shirt.”
“If you say so.” Linc pulled his tie from his neck, undid some shirt buttons and pulled his dress shirt out of the waistband of his suit pants. Gripping the back of his shirt by its collar, he yanked it over his head and dropped it to the floor. Tate stood, openmouthed, taking in his broad chest softly dusted with hair, his mouthwateringly sexy six-pack and the bulging muscles in his arms.
She placed her hand on her stomach and softly whimpered. “Holy cupcakes with sprinkles on them.”
Linc’s head shot up, and his hand, about to unzip his pants, stilled. “Problem?”
Tate shook her head and met his eyes, allowing him to see the raw desire she knew was blazing there. “It’s just you, I...” She waved her hand as if to fan herself. “So damn hot. I could jump you right now.”
Linc scrubbed his hands over his face and swore. “I’m holding on by a thread here, Harper, and you’re not helping.”
“You’re the one stripping!” Tate huffed.
Linc dropped a hard, quick, open-mouth kiss on h
er mouth. “God, you are so sexy, and I love the way you look at me.”
Smiling coquettishly, she dragged her index finger down the middle of his chest and over the ridges his six-pack. “Very pretty, Ballantyne. I’m happy to taste as well as touch.”
“Shut up, Harper. You’re playing with fire,” Linc muttered, unzipping his pants and pushing them down his hips. Tate dropped her gaze, and she saw the proof of his desire for her straining against the soft fabric of his underwear. Tate licked her lips and took a step toward him. Determined to have his mouth on hers, her hands on all that tanned, masculine, sexy skin.
Linc’s hands on her shoulders stopped her in her tracks. “As much as I want your hands on me, I can’t. Not now. So, do me a favor, please, honey?”
Honey? Lord, she’d never been called that, never heard the words from a deep-voiced guy with lust and need and appreciation in his eyes.
Anything. She’d do anything for him, but, man, she hoped the favor involved getting naked and up close and very, very personal. Tate cocked her head and begged her racing heart to slow down. “What?”
“Later tonight, I promise you I am going to make you scream, over and over again, from unrelenting pleasure.”
Oh...gulp.
“But for now? Please, walk your seriously fantastic ass out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I need you to go so that things—” Linc gestured to his groin “—can settle down.”
This was nuts, Tate thought. She’d never had such an intense, crazy, take-me-now-and-damn-the-consequences reaction to any man before. Why Linc? Why now? Why with the one man who was the embodiment of everything she’d never wanted? And why did she suspect that walking away from Linc—and she would because that was what she did—might end up breaking her heart?
She needed to back away, that was the clever thing to do. Get some distance, some air, try to settle down. Tate nodded. Yes, walking away was the sensible choice. And she would. In a minute.
But before she did, she reached for a white dress shirt she’d seen earlier. It was plain white with black buttons, designer, expensive but interesting. She pulled it off the hanger and handed it to Linc. “Wear this, roll up the sleeves to the middle of your forearms. Don’t wear that watch. Wear the one you had on the other day.”